


WandBound

by megyal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beltane, Children, M/M, Time Travel, Wandlore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 01:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1801045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A child of prophecy needs to gain the powers of the Thunderer and the Wild.</p>
            </blockquote>





	WandBound

**Author's Note:**

> The mpreg is not something that I expound on a lot. This was written for bgreenwivy as part of the [HDS Beltane](http://hds-beltane.livejournal.com/) 2014 Round. Betaed by Waltzingstar!

_Wait._

_I …see something._

_Listen, quickly, before the vision passes. This is the time of the Thin Veil, I know…but even I cannot hold onto it for too long._

_Soon our world will be covered in the Darkness. However, a child will grow to be one of our greatest defenders: the Magus. The Magus will be dark of skin, dark of hair, and bright of eye._

_Yet the Darkness will be powerful; the Darkness is everywhere, and the Magus will be overwhelmed. The Magus will attempt to channel the power of their patrons, the brightness of the Thunderer and the might of the Wild, but the Magus needs something to bring these great elements under their command. A talisman…no,_ two _talismans, from the past._

_This is all that I have seen. I cannot perceive anything else in my vision. The Darkness obscures the rest._

\--

Harry sat back on his heels in the back garden, gazing around in quiet satisfaction. His hands, covered in dirt, were sweaty and hot; he could have cast a charm over his skin to protect them as he worked, but there was something satisfying about getting down into the soil, working the dark and fragrant earth over the roots of the sturdy little bushes he'd gotten from Neville. He didn't even know the names of these plants, but he was sure they would flourish under his care, just as all the other plants did. Harry had been surprised by his own green thumb; in any case, these shrubs would do wonderfully with just a little water and fertilizing charms. 

He glanced up at the squat shape of his house, a building with thick stone walls which he'd bought unfinished a few years ago and had spent quite a bit of time to complete to his own liking. He had worked on Grimmauld for some months after the war, and had removed nearly all the blood-curses with Ron's help, but he hadn't felt like living there at all. Grimmauld Place had too much history in its walls, and he had wanted something that was… well, a bit lighter. Something with a bit of a yard and few trees under which one could sit and enjoy the soft night. Ginny had spotted the rash of snapdragons colourfully defending the winding stone path up to the small front door, and had claimed that the name of the house was the Dragon's Cottage.

From the way she'd said the name, and the light of challenge in her eyes, Harry had the idea that she'd been taunting him a little, in her own way. Since the War had finished, Harry had simply retreated from the wizarding world, brooding over himself like a dragon would sulk over treasure. It was a quiet existence, just the way he liked it. He got to see his friends and his godson when he wished, he repaired his buildings and read a few books and took naps whenever he wanted. Easy life, it was.

A bit too quiet, but…that was bearable enough.

He brushed some dirt off the dark skin of his fingers, and tugged down the straw hat he wore on his head. Hermione had given him this hat and he was sure he looked ridiculous in it, but it kept the rays of the sun off his head. When he brought his hands down, he saw something flicker out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head and blinked at the tall green-clad figure which stood there, watching him with an unreadable expression.

How did this person get into his yard? He had not felt any disturbance in the wards. Harry reached very slowly for his wand, which lay nearby in the grass. The dark eyes of the stranger tracked the movements of his hand, with an air of interested amusement. Harry couldn't tell if they were male or female, but they were tall and…were those _leaves_ growing out of their skin? The brown skin seemed rough, and vines wrapped in thick layers around their long neck, tangling with thick, dark hair. 

Harry held up his wand, pointing it at this invader. "Who are you," he said, flat and even. "And what do you want?"

He hadn't expected an answer right away, and so he actually flinched when the person responded in a deep voice, "In these parts, I am called Ambash." The voice seemed to be feminine, despite its deep timbre. This Ambash jerked her chin at Harry's wand. "I've come for one of my own."

 _What_ , Harry thought and tightened his grip. "Look, I'm giving you five seconds to get yourself out—"

"Wait!" A high-pitched voice came from behind the tall interloper, and Harry felt staggered as a small child came scrambling out of the leafy shadows behind Ambash. "Wait, please. Let me… I'll explain!"

Harry's eyes felt wide enough to drop out of his head as the child barrelled over and collapsed beside him. The child had dark skin, almost the same shade as his, and a shock of black hair going every which way; their grey eyes shone in a pleading fashion. They wore very odd robes, and seemed to be about seven or eight years old.

 _This one is mine_ , Harry thought to himself, a nonsensical thought if there was ever one. He nearly dropped his wand as gooseflesh crawled across his skin; he felt so _certain_.

"Are you a boy or a girl," he heard himself ask in a toneless manner and that was utter foolishness, wasn't it…but it seemed to be that sort of day. The child blinked their pale eyes at him.

"A boy," the child finally answered solemnly. "For now."

 _What_ , Harry thought again and glanced at Ambash, who remained still. "What's your name?" he asked. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"My name?" The child (the _boy_ ) murmured and there seemed to be a strange expression about them, a mixture of heavy sadness. "Finley," he finally answered, speaking the name slowly. "That's the name you—" he cut out, eyebrows climbing his wide forehead. "It's _my_ name," he finished and his little mouth twisted.

"Finley," Harry repeated and reached out almost without thinking, brushing Finley's hair with his fingers so that that the long soft hair lay a little neater. Finley blinked at him and then smiled.

"Thanks," the little boy said with a small, warm grin. He jumped up so quickly that Harry flinched back and collapsed on his ass. The boy pranced to Ambash's side; in one small hand, he clutched Harry's wand, and his smile had gained a mischievous tinge.

"Hey!" Harry scrambled up to his feet. "Finley, give me back my wand."

"I'll give it back, I _promise_ ," Finley said as he clutched the wand to his chest. "I really _really_ need it. Ambash'll return it when I'm done, right?" Finley gazed up at the motionless figure. "Won't you, Ambash?"

Ambash nodded. "I will. You must go back now, my child."

"Back…where?" Harry took a step forward in alarm as Finley's small form began to shimmer, then fade. The boy's eyes, wide and shining, were the last to disappear. "Wait! Finley!" He gasped, reaching out with a desperation he didn't know he possessed. "Where is he?"

Ambash regarded Harry solemnly. "He has gone back to his _when_. I will return your wand when Finley's task is complete."

" _What_ task!" Harry shouted and clenched his fingers into fists. "He's just a child!"

"Yes," Ambash responded, very evenly. " _You_ understand, don't you?"

Harry took in a deep, shuddering breath. "He's _my_ child, isn't he?" At Ambash's nod, Harry closed his eyes. "Then why…why am I not out there, protecting him?"

"But you are," Ambash responded in a quiet manner, voice like leaves being stroked by the wind. When Harry opened his eyes again, he was alone in his garden again.

\--

Draco stormed down the wide stone stairs which led from the back of the Manor, down into the immaculate gardens. He could hear Lucius shouting behind him, which made this moment feel even more extreme, because Lucius didn't usually shout; but Draco hadn't been able to sit a moment more in that sun parlour for a second more, listening to his father plot out his life yet again. 

Lucius had been going on about Draco's betrothal to Daphne's little sister, someone whom Draco had very little recollection of, except that she had lots of pale hair and a nice smile. As Lucius had continued to drone, something brittle within Draco seemed to crack and then shatter into very little pieces. He had simply gotten up from his seat next to the long glass bay of tall windows and walked out.

As his father continued to yell his name, Draco kept on moving. His clothing felt too restrictive, his collar too stiff. He couldn't draw a full breath and his skin felt tight over his bones. As his boots trod over the stone pathway, Draco realised that he was probably in the very brink of a panic attack. He might have had one before; when the Headmaster had fallen, he'd had the same sort of helpless feeling. He stopped walking, looking up into the sky. The clouds were low, full-bellied. A sheet of lightning snapped across their dark rolling fields. 

A cloak of exhaustion settled over his shoulders, although Draco hadn't been doing much for the past few months. Existence seemed hard when one really had nothing to live for.

Another whip of lightning, but it didn't seem to occur in the clouds. Draco stopped so sharply that he nearly stumbled over his own feet and turned slowly. A slender, pale man dressed in glowing clothing stood near the blood-roses which had been Draco's favourites when he was younger. The strange man's hair seemed to float upwards, the pale strands wafting slightly in an unseen wind. Draco took a step back, and pointed his wand at him.

"You are trespassing," he said, and was glad to hear the steadiness in his voice. Then, he frowned slightly as he realised he hadn't heard the wards go off. "Who are you?"

The man blinked very slowly. "You may call me Valma," he answered, said and Draco offered what felt like a very half-hearted sneer. He would worry about the wards later, for this was far more intriguing. _Valma_ was a name from ancient fairy-tales; a commander of the winds, a thunderer. A figment of imagination, really. "I have brought your child from afar, to ask for your help."

Draco sighed. "I have no child. Probably never will," he said and was about to speak the spell to activate the alarms when something barrelled against him from the side. Draco's knee buckled, but he quickly recovered to spin and grab at whatever it was that attacked him. He stared down at the child he had caught, who gazed back up at him with pale, wide eyes. _Malfoy_ eyes, but set in a round little face.

"I don't have much time," the child whispered; Draco felt sure that this was a girl. "Please, I need your wand."

Draco released the child and stood back. He held his wand high, out of her reach. The child scowled and then jumped around him, reaching up, but she was far too short. She seemed quite determined though, even trying to clamber up his hip. "Be still, won't you?" Draco told her, hiding a sudden smile at her huff of annoyance. He glanced at the so-called Valma, but the man remained motionless. "Stop that. I'm setting off the alarms now--"

"Wait, look!" The child whipped out another wand from within the folds of her unusual robes. "I've got this other wand, but I need yours too! Please, it's important!"

Draco hardly heard a word of the child's babble. He _knew_ the wand in her grimy little grip.

"You have Potter's wand," he murmured. "I do hope you haven't harmed him. I've heard he's important."

The child adopted an air of deep affront and it was such a familiar expression that pulled at something deep in his stomach. Draco realised that he had pressed his free hand to his flat stomach, unthinkingly.

"I didn't hurt him! That wouldn't be nice," and the child held up _two_ wands. Draco blinked rapidly. How had she gotten his wand out of his hand? Before he could snatch it back, the child put both wands together. A wooden click seemed to reverberate through the quiet air of the garden. Both polished sticks melted and Draco let out a sharp sound of dismay.

"It's okay!" the child cried and held up one wand. The holly and hawthorn had twisted into a single braid. "See? They work best this way. Valma will bring yours back."

Draco strode over and seized the child's wrist. "No," he said. "You're not going _anywhere_ —" he broke off, for his fingers had closed in on themselves. The child had begun to disappear. "No!" Where had this sensation of desperate loss come from? "Wait, _no_."

"I'll be fine," the child's voice said, even though they seemed to be physically gone. "Don't worry."

Draco whirled to glare at Valma. "You bring her back. Right now," he commanded in a deathly quiet tone and for some reason, he felt like his mother. Valma watched him with bright eyes.

"You don’t know who she is," Valma finally responded, voice crackling. "Or what she is required to do."

"I don't _need_ to know," Draco spat. "Whatever it is she _needs to do_ , she's just a child. You bring her back right now."

"You are worried?" Valma tilted his head to one side. "That's good. She needs your concern."

Draco took one threatening step towards him. He wanted to reach out and shake some sense into this strange man, but Valma simply smiled in response. Lightning flashed, so close, and thunder rattled his bones; the spread of light blinded Draco temporarily. He held up one hand instinctively and felt the wave of energy shimmer against his palm. Sheer power twirled rapidly up his arm, spread warmly across his chest, and then simply dissipated. He blinked, but by the time his vision cleared, Valma had vanished as well. 

He stood there for a few long minutes, taking deep breaths. He felt light and grounded at the same time…like he could do anything he wanted. Anything at all. Draco clenched his fists and then spun on his heel, heading back towards the Manor.

"Draco," his father said ominously as Draco stalked through the sun parlour. His mother, artfully reclined in a chaise-lounge next to a miniature palm, sipped her wine and smiled benignly at everything. She had refused to be caught up in Lucius' plotting, and Draco didn't think he could admire her any more than he did at this moment. "You _must_ listen to me."

"My apologies, Father," Draco said, going through the doors which led to the main floor of the Manor. "But I won't allow you to discuss _my_ life any more. I will take care of it myself."

"Draco!" Lucius bellowed. 

Draco heard his mother say, "Oh, do be quiet, Lucius. Have some wine," and a smile stole over his face. Draco ran up the stairs to his suite of rooms. He had an urgent letter to send, after all.

\--

"So… you saw Finley, too?" Harry stared at Malfoy's tight expression. He had opened his Floo to admit Malfoy after receiving his missive delivered by a large, nervous owl. Now, they sat at the table in Harry's dining room, just off the kitchen. The setting sun sent deep golden rays into the bank of windows on the left hand side, landing on the side of Malfoy's face. His eyes gleamed. Harry couldn't believe he'd missed how much Finley's eyes resembled Malfoy's.

At the mention of the child's name, Malfoy's sharp features underwent such a complete softening, that Harry had to stare. He looked utterly different. 

"Finley is her name?" he said and his thin lips lifted into a slight smile. "It's…lovely."

Harry continued to stare. "Finley is a _boy_ ," he said and Malfoy shook his head, still smiling. Harry exhaled heavily. "Okay, whatever gender they are, they're… _our_ child. And they're in some sort of trouble, don't you think?"

Malfoy stared at him for a long beat. "We're her parents," he said. The softness of his tone made Harry's cheeks go warm; he hadn't known Malfoy could have sounded like that. "She's caught up in something, with Valma and…what was yours, again?"

"Ambash," Harry answered and Malfoy nodded. He had seemed so distant when he'd first stepped through Harry's Floo, as if his mind had been somewhere in the sky, but now he was all here, his concentration bent wholly towards Harry. It felt nice to have someone look at him like that.

"Ambash," Malfoy repeated in a murmur. "The spirit of the forest…said to be the ruler of holly. Fairy-tales come to life, imagine that."

"Valma is the ruler of hawthorn?" Harry smiled at the startled air Malfoy suddenly emanated. "Yeah, I know what kind of wand you have, mate. I won it off you, didn't I?"

Malfoy's stare grew frosty. "Stole it off me, more like. Back to the matter at hand," he continued smoothly, his cold expression warming again at Harry's apologetic shrug. "You and I… we obviously had Finley very late in life, since we're not around to help her when she really needs it. She had to bend _time and space_ to get to us and our wands. They're symbols of power to her."

"They're better together, too." Harry smiled when Malfoy's eyebrows raised. "You know, when I had your wand, it… it was really friendly," he admitted. "I bet my wand would like you, too."

"Innuendos all over, Potter?" Malfoy queried in a low voice and Harry went hot all over when he realised what he said. "So we're cross-compatible with our wands. Why is that important to Finley?"

Harry thought about it, and the answer floated into his mind like a leaf landing softly on water. "Because they draw Ambash and Valma together." Harry thought his own voice sounded dream-like. "Malfoy… _Draco_ , what do they both represent?"

"Valma is lightning and thunder," Draco answered after a thoughtful beat. "For the strengthening of magical powers and protection against evil spirits. Ambash is protective as well, but associated with fire and new life. The wild forest," he added, with a pointed look at Harry's hair.

Harry ignored that last jab. "Life and light," he muttered. "Against death and darkness."

"And Finley is in the middle of it." Draco reached out and grabbed Harry's hands. Harry jumped a little, surprised; his fingers gripping his were a little cold, but his grip was very tight. Harry stared at his face; Draco's eyes were wide and intent. Even at the trials, he hadn't seemed so alive. "She's too small, Potter. She's just _a child_."

Harry couldn't stop looking at Draco's face. His eyes, like Finley's, seemed to draw him close. "I know," Harry whispered. "It's killing me to know that. What can we do?" 

Draco said, with that same twist of smile as their child, "Start earlier, I suppose."

\--

_The Darkness is shifting now. I see a house. I see a wooden door. I see a kitchen, and sunlight fills the room. It's so quiet, and beautiful. The shadows are far; they are held back by the great powers protecting this place. The time will come when the Darkness makes its greatest, most desperate assault, but that time is not yet._

_I see a man…two men. They are standing by the windows, together. One is heavy with child._

_Which one? The one with the fair hair. He is tall. Thunder is in his voice, and lightning in his eyes. The other is almost as tall, and as dark as the first is fair. This one is as quiet and as powerful as the deep, ever-growing forest. The powers of Life and Light are here. They always were, contained in the bodies of these two fragile yet commanding beings. How could the Darkness have missed this? They are so bright. Their love blooms…it is alive._

_The Darkness is afraid, for their Child will be even stronger in this new_ when _. The Child who will become the Magus._

_The Darkness is afraid, for the Magus will not be alone. Ambash and Valma will be with them, this time._

_The Darkness is afraid…and that is good._

_fin_


End file.
